


In Time

by SexuallyAttractedToFanFiction



Series: Tumblr Shorts [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, destiel stuff because after that episode I can think of nothing else, they kill Chuck but offscreen because fuck Chuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexuallyAttractedToFanFiction/pseuds/SexuallyAttractedToFanFiction
Summary: "Sam was tired. He was tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of watching his brother lose. He didn’t even feel the blows anymore, not fully, they were so unpredictable. How do you grieve a death if you’re not sure it’s permanent? "
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Tumblr Shorts [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1135703
Comments: 10
Kudos: 200





	In Time

Sam was tired. He was tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of watching his brother lose. He didn’t even feel the blows anymore, not fully, they were so unpredictable. How do you grieve a death if you’re not sure it’s permanent? Existence was surreal, dreamlike, the line between life and death a skipping rope. Eileen had been back so little time. For Cas dying seemed to be little more than a holiday. Still, Sam was tired. It was less the grief that got to him than the exhaustion, the knowledge of another job at hand, another fight and another fight and another fight. Sam wished there was time to look after his brother, time to be happy, time to be sad. They never had time for anything. They never had those conversations, the oh so necessary emotional unpacking, the thorough examination of trauma. Just a little bit here, a little bit there, then a whole new wave of horror to undo any progress they had made.

There were some conversations that Sam had been trying to have with Dean for decades now, never the time, until he didn’t even know how to begin. How do you ask someone if they’re queer this late in life? Someone so prone to rage, to silent treatments, to reckless behaviour. If he was wrong it could send him into a tailspin, if he was right it could be even worse. He wished he had asked now, wished Dean could say the words.

“I love him too.”

It seemed so simple, to Sam, so clear. Dean had barely had the strength to admit what Cas had said, all choking sobs and abject terror, let alone have his side of the conversation now it could not be heard.

Sam had to drive the impala, now. Dean just slumped in the backseat, Cas’ seat, dejectedly staring at nothing. He’d tried, that first night, caressed the steering wheel in that far too tender way he always did, clutched at it as if it could _bring him back_ , (he shouted that a lot these days, when he thought no one could hear). Then the tears came, the clenching of the jaw, the pursing of the lips, and Sam knew that Dean was not going to drive them home. They opened their doors in unison, Dean with perhaps a little more aggression, and Sam was unsurprised. He was more surprised when Dean shooed Jack out of the back, not even bothering to act like it was for the sake of an upgrade, no excuse before he threw himself down across the leather seats. Jack sent worried glances at the two of them, his own grief so overshadowed by what neither of them acknowledged was happening in the backseat. Dean cried, his head where Cas’ lap would normally be, as close as he could get. He cried hard, while they sat in silence. It was a long journey for all of them. It was a shock when he didn’t drive the next day, or the next, or at any point in the week that followed. After that it became the norm; it was crazy how fast they could adjust to the abnormal, even the unbearable.

Dean didn’t try to hide the sorrow anymore, he probably couldn’t, not about something as big as this. Sam would have been pleased, had it not been so heartbreaking.

Sam had to look after his brother now, make sure he ate, make sure he got dressed in the morning. He didn’t seem to notice the little things anymore, there was always this glazed over look on his face, like he was still hearing Cas’ confession, a loop playing in his head that drowned out everything else.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Dean had always talked in his sleep.

Sam couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear always fighting, he couldn’t bear always losing, he couldn’t bear always watching his brother lose. He wasn’t going to anymore. Enough was enough. Dean deserved his win. They all did. Sam was going to get Eileen back, and he was going to get Cas back, and Charlie and Donna and all the rest. Chuck should have known better. You should never piss off a Winchester, and Sam was well and truly pissed.

******************

Chuck died as he lived, alone, and fundamentally unimportant.

Sam didn’t care to watch it happen.

When it was over Jack got into the backseat, and Sam sat down beside him, and they didn’t watch through the window as Dean reunited with his angel.

They didn’t watch the pause, the breath that seemed to stretch across eternity, like a ripple in time. They didn’t watch the way Dean swallowed down a noise, or Cas smiled, the unsure way their gazes met. They didn’t see the question, the words in the silence. They didn’t see a surging forward, an embrace, a locking of lips so desperate that they might never unlock again. They didn’t see a series of touches, a checking of reality, of physical being beneath Dean’s hands. They didn’t see Dean break away, gasping in a breath so close Cas must have felt it, even as he said the words. They didn’t see the tentative smile on his lips as he breathed those words over and over and over, as if they would be heard before they had been spoken, as if he could send them back and pull Cas away from the dark, before he had even gone. They didn’t see another kiss, a slower kiss, surer, softened with the knowing, with having said.

They didn’t see the tears on both of their faces when they came over to the car. They didn’t see it when their hands joined between them, in the front seat, while Dean once again took the wheel of his impala.

“Glad to have you back man,” Sam leaned forward and clapped Cas on the shoulder, squeezing for a moment, before letting them go.

“Glad to be back,” Cas smiled and Sam settled into his seat.

They didn’t see the warmth in Cas’ eyes, the way he kept glancing at Dean as he put the car in gear, they didn’t see Dean’s grin or the way his thumb brushed the back or Cas’ hand the entire journey.

They saw nothing but a family, a car, and the open road.

Jack fell asleep on Sam’s shoulder, Sam didn’t follow. He realised, with a start that almost woke the sleeping nephilim, that he was no longer tired.


End file.
